


Secret liaisons

by Comixgal



Series: Secret Liaisons [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Plug, BDSM, Bondage, Choking, Cock Slapping, Dominant Masochism, Don't Read This, Filth, Heavy BDSM, M/M, Masochism, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Nipple Clamps, Not Beta Read, Praise Kink, Sadism, Safeword Use, Secret Identity, Secrets, Submissive Sadism, Trans Male Character, author can't decide if this is pwp or a story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 13:52:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18389723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Comixgal/pseuds/Comixgal
Summary: Clint is a masochistic transman who likes having control over his pain. Phil is a sadist who likes being told what to do. They’ve found one another under the cover of anonymity. What will happen when they realize they are one another’s secret?





	Secret liaisons

**Author's Note:**

> I am not transgender or non-binary. I’ve had a friend of mine who is a member of the local kink community and identifies as trans read through this. I cannot, however, promise that the content or language will not be triggering. Please make healthy decisions for yourself.
> 
> Please note:
> 
> * Not all transgender individuals medically transition.  
> * Naming and language used for bodies is personal and you should never make assumptions, regardless of how an individual identifies.  
> * The assumption that using medical terminology is best “because that’s what it is” is flawed and does not give agency to individuals.  
> * Transphobic comments will be deleted.

Phil had been expecting… or rather hoping for the WhatsApp message.

**_5pm. Tonight?_ **

He picked up his other phone and sent a message to Natasha.

**_Sorry, something has come up. Raincheck for dinner and beers?_ **

He knew that they’d be alright. She and Clint were used to him skipping out on their dinners. They would reschedule for the next day.

**_Sure. We’ll stay in and watch one of those shows you don’t like._ **

Phil grinned. How they could be so into the Scandinoir shows and the True Crime dramas when they lived the lives they did had always amused him.

On his anonymous burner phone, he sent: **I’ll be there**

Already, his mind was wandering, guessing at what the rest of the evening would bring.

***  
The dungeon was on the seventh floor of a downtown building. Phil slid his membership card into the scanner then pressed the elevator button. Once on the floor, he was greeted by a very normal looking reception area. “I have a 5pm appointment with Mr. Francis.” He handed over his ID and membership card.

“Welcome back, Mr. Jay. Mr. Francis is in room five and is waiting for you.” The young man handed back the two cards.

“Thank you.” Phil again wondered how Frost & Xavier’s even advertised for receptionist positions. He also wondered what the non-disclosure statement in the contract looked like. It was unlikely that the company was unaware of how many members used fake names. Giving a mental shrug, he turned down the hallway to room five.

Inside the room, all of his personal items had been laid out. As quickly as he could, he changed into the leather pants, black silk shirt, and hood. The last step was a collar with a voice modulator. All the items had been custom made for him and they were comfortable, breathable. Mr. Francis had paid for the hood and voice modulator as part of his privacy requirement.

Once ready, Phil pressed a button by the door that turned on a green light in the next chamber as well as above his head. A moment later, it flickered on and off three times. Phil nodded to himself and opened the door.

Mr. Francis was sitting in a large bondage chair, legs open, hands gripping the ends of the cushioned chair arms. Phil took careful note of which parts of the man’s body were covered with leather and which had been left exposed. He was thrilled to see he had full access to Francis’s chest, groin, and ass. He gave a worried glance at the leather-covered hands, arms, and shoulders.

“Just a tweak.” Mr. Francis said with a smile in his voice. His face was also covered and he wore a voice modulator headset. He did not wear a collar. He was in charge. “Go take a look at the table. I’ll give you your instructions.”

Phil took a deep breath. The certainty and control in Mr. Francis’s voice made him feel warm. He liked being told what to do. He looked over at the implements on the table and felt himself grow hard.

*~*~

“You like what you see?” It wasn’t really a question. Clint knew exactly which tools were Mr. Jay’s favorites. They weren’t all out on the table, but several were. He could see the thoughts rushing in and out of the collared man’s head.

“Yes, sir.”

“Nipple clamps first, sweetheart.”

Mr. Jay shivered and Clint smirked behind his mask. He loved how responsive Jay was to the simplest of orders.

Clint watched the black-clad man approach with the wickedly toothed clamps. His nipples were already hard in expectation. His pet reached out to pinch them and the sparks of pain were glorious. “Harder!” He moaned when Mr. Jay complied. “Good.” His voice was a bit strained. “Clamps! Now!” Two brilliant points of agony bloomed across his chest. Mr. Jay had managed to place both clamps perfectly… and simultaneously. Oh yes, he was a keeper.

The pain was doing its job. Clint needed more. As he breathed through the throbbing that had started taking on the rhythm of his heartbeat, he looked over at Mr. Jay. The man stood close by. He was waiting. Being such a good, patient sadist.

“Very good.” And again, Clint watched Mr. Jay shiver. Oh, the things he could do to someone who so desperately craved his approval. If only they weren’t both so devoted to their privacy. Clint growled, angry at the reality that kept him from taking this man home and exploring the very limits of his praise kink and his submission.

With a further growl, he turned that anger towards something constructive. “Butt plug. Only the lubed condom. Nothing else.” Clint watched Mr. Jay’s eyes widen a bit. He also watched the man’s cock twitch visibly in his pants. Oh yes, his perfect little pervert was looking forward to the torture he was about to inflict.

Mr. Jay turned a wheel to ease the chair back and get better access to the dom’s ass. The bottom of the chair unclasped and fell away, leaving Clint’s legs strapped down while providing easy availability to Mr. Jay’s target. The movement made the nipple clamps pull and swing drawing a moan out of Clint.

“Now, sweetheart. Do me proud.” Clint finally ground out.

Mr. Jay was between his legs in a flash. He pushed the head of the plug against Clint’s hole and did not let up. The burn started immediately. Clint had only given himself a quick anal douche and hadn’t lubed himself up or worked himself open. His ass was tight and the other man had to push and twist the plug to get any movement. “Keep going.” Clint ordered, breathless. “Make it hurt. You know what to do, baby. Do it.”

With that demand, Mr. Jay pulled the plug out then pushed it in further. He kept up the assault, pulling out when it looked like Clint might be adjusting and then slamming it back in a little further.

~*~*

Phil was rock hard in his pants. He could feel himself leaking into the butter-soft leather. The pained, gutteral noises Mr. Francis was making were even better than the compliments he gave out so easily. The almost-dry intrusion of the butt plug didn’t improve over time. As the lube was used up, it became worse. The constant insertion and removal was turning the plug into a burning, aggravating implement. Phil was starting to breathe hard at the way Mr. Francis was making aborted little screams.

“In!” The dom insisted between shouts.

Phil did as he was told, forcing it all the way in and reveling in the resulting cries.

“Good. Good job, sweetheart.” Mr. Francis was gasping for air but still managed to praise his work.

“Thank you, sir.” Phil said. “Please, may I take my pants off?”

“All worked up, pet? You like giving me pain? You like when I tell you what to do so that you can hurt me?”

Phil reddened. Mr. Francis asked something like this every time they met. Every time, Phil wanted to deny it. But this was why they both paid so much to this dungeon -- it wasn’t easy for a dominant masochist and a submissive sadist to find an outlet. “Yes, sir. Your pain and your orders are making me so hard and wet. Please let me take my pants off.”

“Just my pain? Just my orders, pet?”

Phil shivered. Oh, this was new. Mr. Francis had never even alluded to recognizing his reaction to the approval. “Sir- please, I can’t. Not now.”

“Are you safewording, baby? Tell me a color.”

“Yellow.”

Mr. Francis nodded. “Good job, honey. I won’t say anything else about it now. Go ahead and take your pants off.”

Grateful for the permission, Phil pulled off the leather pants. His cock bobbed eagerly up and dripped copiously onto the floor.

“I want you down my throat while you whip my cock. Get the crop and the safety bell.”

Oh god. Phil almost came right there. He loved the way Mr. Francis screamed and shouted around him as he tortured the other man.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, sweetheart.” Mr. Francis teased. “Go get the crop and bring me the alarm button. And before you go, remove the nipple clamps.”

*~*~

Clint watched his sweet, shy Mr. Jay refocus on his nipples. The adorable sub knew exactly what to do. First the man flicked the left clamp then tore off the right one, barely opening it so that the teeth scraped against the throbbing nub. While Clint was writhing, Mr. Jay opened the left clamp then let it snap closed again, right over the tip of his nipple. Clint’s eyes rolled back in his head and he curled inward, screaming. He was so fucking wet. Jay wriggled the clamp a bit before taking it fully off.

Clint watched the man saunter over to the table, affecting a nonchalance that he definitely wasn’t feeling but caused a small wriggle of delectable pride in Clint’s stomach. The sub was doing exactly what he’d been told to do. And was ignoring his own hard cock to do it. Clint was proud of him.

That day’s mission had taken a lot out of Clint and he knew he only had about twenty minutes of energy left for this session. He needed the final endorphin rush that Mr. Jay was about to give him.

“What will you be listening for, honey?” Clint asked.

“The alarm going off or you tapping out with your other hand.” The sub said diffidently.

“That’s right. Good job. And what are you going to try to do?”

“Make you use it. Hurt your cock and stuff my own so far down your throat that you can’t breathe. Pull on the butt plug while you’re screaming and make it feel like I’m tearing you apart.”

Clint sighed. God, he wanted that so much. “That’s right, pet. Make me feel it. And while I’m choking on that cock that’s so hard because you’re such a good boy, you’re going to stick three fingers in me. Aren’t you, sweetheart?”

Mr. Jay's eyes dilated. “Yes, sir.”

“I’ll squeeze your leg when I’m ready for that. Nothing in my front hole this time. Now come straddle my head and give me your cock. Don’t be gentle.” Clint leaned back and opened his mouth.

The sub moved as he’d been told and was soon shoving his cock deep, forcing Clint to open his throat to the intrusion. Once he was seated, Mr. Jay took the riding crop and started brutally whipping Clint’s erection. Clint almost choked on the precum flowing down his throat when he screamed. The sub pulled back just enough to let him take a terrifyingly short breath before thrusting back down into the open throat.

Clint tried to open his eyes and look up at the sadistic fuck who was abusing him but all he saw was the man’s balls and the curvature of his ass as he bent forward to continue the whipping. Tears were gathering in his eyes, he couldn’t breathe, and he was desperately sucking at the iron rod in his mouth. Like always, when Mr. Jay was given a little bit of pleasure, he managed to up his game for the dom.

First, the sub settled deeper into the open mouth, then he whipped the erection even harder, moving the crop from left to right and then back. Then, without any warning or extra movements, he yanked out the butt plug, making Clint sob. The dom almost pressed the alarm but instead bruisingly grabbed his sweet deviant’s leg. In response, Mr. Jay thrust his three dry fingers into Clint’s ass.

Crying for real now, Clint came hard, shuddering and slobbering around the dick still firmly thrusting down his throat. His orgasm triggered the sub’s and soon his mouth and throat were flooded.

Clint tapped him gently on the hip and Mr. Jay carefully retreated. Clint coughed, spat, and coughed some more. The sub was hovering. “You were great, baby. Really great.” His voice came out raspy but the words were heartfelt.

“Thank you, sir. What do you need.” Mr. Jay asked.

“Water. Then a washcloth.” Clint ordered. He blinked more tears out of his eyes and wished that the sub’s contract allowed Clint to offer aftercare. Instead, Mr. Jay always ran away as quickly as possible. Clint wanted to hold the other man and tell him what a good job he always did.

~*~*

Phil brought the water and washcloth then went to clean himself up. The reality of what he’d just done to a fellow human had already started to sink in. He needed to get himself home, into a hot shower, and then into bed with a bowl of ramen and a tumbler of scotch.

That’s exactly where he was less than half an hour later. Before falling asleep, he sent the one contractually obligated message to Mr. Francis: **_Safe. Home. Fine. Goodnight._**

It was the same message he sent every time. He wouldn’t get a response back until the next morning. It would say, “Well done yesterday.” And that would be all.

***

When Phil woke up and looked at his phone, he was stunned to see that the message was longer than expected.

**_You were incredible last night. I’m feeling it all over in the best way. Good job, sweetheart._ **

The shiver that hit him wasn’t arousal. It was the deeply repressed shame he felt at his sadism. And also arousal.

Angry at Mr. Francis for straying from the script they’d developed over the last several months, Phil went straight to the gym. He was still there an hour later when Clint and Natasha arrived.

“Hey, Boss. What’s got you so worked up?” Clint asked. He was standing a bit gingerly.

“Are you hurt.” Phil demanded, looking the man over.

“Just sore from the mission, sir. Nothing to be worried about. My harness took most of the weight but it dug into me a bit and I’ve got some impressive chafing. Just need some strap adjustments.”

Phil looked him over. “Shouldn’t you be recovering? I don’t like seeing you in pain.”

Clint grinned, “Don’t you worry about me, Boss. I don’t mind the pain. Natasha helped me get lotion in all the hard to reach spots last night.”

Natasha rolled her eyes.

Phil responded by turning back to the punching bag. “Glad you enjoyed your evening. We have a mission debrief before lunch. Don’t be late.”

*~*~

Clint had hoped that Mr. Jay would respond. They’d both agreed that there needed to be some communication between them after their sessions. Clint had insisted that the skittish sub text him within two hours of the session and let him know that he’d made it home safely and wasn’t suffering any ill effects. The terse message he received always felt like a punch to the stomach but at least he knew the man hadn’t gone out and done something stupid.

He tried to make himself feel better by praising the other man. His now routine response never elicited anything in return. Clint had hoped that giving a little more would open the pathways of communication a little wider. It hadn’t.

Other than the near-silent treatment he received from Mr. Jay between meetups, Clint was feeling delightfully relaxed.

Last night he had limped into Natasha’s suite with a bottle of heavy-duty liniment oil. He’d already carefully lubed his asshole and was wearing a pair of loose sweatpants that carefully hid the cooling, medicated pad that filled his underwear. The tanktop hid the bandages over his sore nipples but still gave Natasha plenty of bare, muscular skin to treat. They spent two pleasant hours rubbing the liniment into one another’s shoulders, arms, and legs.

He was pretty sure that Natasha knew he occasionally went out and got himself hurt. He didn’t think she knew just _how_ he got himself hurt. As long as he showed up for their evening ritual and wasn’t too damaged, she seemed happy to let it go. Clint was sad that Phil hadn’t joined them this time. Clint loved hanging out with Phil and Natasha in the evenings. On the other hand, it was hard sometimes to explain away his injuries. Phil was often there when he trained, so blaming the training didn’t always work.

“Are we on for tonight?” Clint asked Phil and Natasha after the debrief. “I’m up for some silly BBC murder mysteries.”

“Death in Paradise?” Natasha offered.

“Sounds good to me.” Coulson said as he closed his briefcase. “See you all tonight.”

***

It was another week before Clint started thinking about reserving a room at Frost & Xavier’s again. He knew that doing so meant initiating a very necessary conversation with the shy Mr. Jay.

**_I want to invite you to another session in the next few days, but you know we’re going to need to talk about why you yellow safe-worded last time._ **

The man sent back, of all things, an eye-rolling emoji.

Clint sent back angrily: **_I have no idea what the hell that means._**

**_It means I don’t want to talk about it. And that we don’t need to talk about it._ **

Well that was some bullshit, right there. **_I did something during our time together that made you uncomfortable. We absolutely do need to talk about it._**

**_Fuck you. Talking about my praise kink is what is uncomfortable. Being praised for hurting you is amazing in the moment but I’m not proud of what I do. I do not want to continue this conversation._ **

And that was that. Mr. Jay set a limit and Clint felt obligated to respect it. **Fine.**

Angrily, he headed down to the range. Phil walked in five minutes later, looking like a storm cloud. Clint kept an eye on the man as they both set up targets, put on their eye and ear protection, and started shooting. Phil’s shots were wild and scattered. After the third clip, they still hadn’t improved. Clint had forgotten his anger in favor of whatever the hell was eating up Phil.

He put away his weapons and then waited for Phil to be done with the fourth clip.

“Hey.” He waved a hand within Phil’s line of sight and then put a hand on his shoulder. Phil removed the ear protection. “What’s going on? I haven’t seen you this out of sorts in a while.”

Phil scowled then seemed to realize that he was talking to Clint and relaxed. “Just a personal issue. An acquaintance is getting under my skin and I’m frustrated by it.”

“Want a drink?”

Phil stared down the range at the target. “Sure, couldn’t hurt.”

They cleaned up together and headed up to Clint’s suite.

~*~*

Phil was glad not to be alone with his thoughts. He followed Clint to the cozy nest of an apartment and flopped down on the couch. Clint handed him a beer a few moments later.

“We don’t have to talk about it.” Clint said, taking a swig from his own bottle.

Phil laughed a little, struck by the irony. “Thanks. It’s not a big deal. I’m glad for the company, though.”

Clint grinned. “My pleasure. Let me know if you need anything.”

Pulling out his phone, Phil shrugged. “A movie, games on my phone, and a beer, are really all I need tonight.”

Clint pulled out his own phone. “Sounds great!”

Phil was deeply grateful for how easy it was to be in Clint’s company. His thoughts kept slipping back to Mr. Francis and when they did, he’d look across the couch at Clint, who would invariably look up and smile at him.

“Whoever they are, they’re a dick.” Clint said. “If whatever they’re doing is bothering you, just tell them to go fuck themselves.”

A protective curl of something hot and squirmy settled in Phil’s stomach. Mr. Francis didn’t deserve that kind of hatred. “Actually, I think it’s mostly my fault. And I did tell them to fuck off.”

Clint grinned. “That’s my Agent Coulson!” He reached out to nudge Phil with a toe.

Phil tried to laugh it off. “Your go-to strategy can’t always be to tell them to fuck off. Especially when I just said that it was mostly my fault.”

Clint shrugged. “Sure I can. I don’t know them. I know you. And I know that you’re awesome and the most goddamn patient human I’ve ever met. If someone’s doing something to piss you off, then they probably don’t deserve your time.”

“You piss me off all the time.” Phil pointed out.

“Sure,” Clint spun his empty bottle over his shoulder and into the waiting recycling bin without looking, “but I’m special.”

Laughing and feeling lighter, Phil handed over his empty bottle for Clint to do the same thing again. “Thanks for the perspective.”

“My pleasure.” Clint went back to playing on his phone. He only looked up again when Phil stood to leave. “Goodnight.”

“Get some rest, yourself. No staying up all night playing that FPS Tony keeps mentioning.”

“You know I’ve promised not to play until you and Tasha are up for it. But we need to get on it soon, I hear that Tony, Bruce, and Steve are practicing as a team.”

“Next time we get together for the evening?” Phil suggested.

Clint gave a thumbs-up as Phil walked out the door.

*~*~

After cleaning up the kitchen, Clint headed to the bedroom. Sighing, he took out his secret phone. **_I’m sorry for pushing your limits._**

The response came quickly. **_You didn’t know. It was my fault for not being clear. I’m sorry I reacted so poorly._**

This was going better than Clint had hoped. **_Do you want to continue doing what we do?_**

This time the pause was much longer. Clint almost convinced himself that he’d somehow pushed Mr. Jay too far. His phone buzzed.

**_I masturbate to the memories of our time together._ **

Clint nearly fist-pumped. **_So that’s a yes?_**

**_You really like it?_ **

Clint stared at the phone for a moment. **_Sweetheart, I order you to hurt me. And you follow those orders so well. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find someone like you? I’m not giving that up._**

 ** _Okay._** The second message came quickly after. **_I like it. A lot._**

 ** _I know you do. You’re so good. So perfect._** Clint felt more confident. **_How about tomorrow? 4pm?_**

**_Yes, sir. I’ll be there._ **

Clint went to sleep with a smile on his face. He knew exactly what he was going to make his sadistic submissive do to him. His cock throbbed in phantom pain. This was going to be so good.


End file.
